


Cymbal Rush

by Foophile



Category: NCIS: LA
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hope this isn’t my Christmas bonus.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cymbal Rush

**Author's Note:**

> NCIS:LA and it's related characters do not belong to me.

A vacation is like love - anticipated with pleasure, experienced with discomfort, and remembered with nostalgia. ~Author Unknown

When G was little, really little, he used to imagine himself on a vacation. The locale would be some anonymous sunny beach with a brilliant blue ocean waving to the shore. At his side would maybe be a wife, maybe even with a child, his child, and he’d drink beer, just enough to make him loose and relaxed.

But all of those imaginings was before he realized that Elena’s family wasn’t planning on keeping him. And before he realized that the life he wanted to live didn’t leave much room for vacations or even the occasional rest and relaxation. He’d faced the facts long before he came to work for NCIS; his life didn’t include a family.

But Hetty with her mother hen ways was trying to change that and G wasn’t protesting that much. Not when she hands him a ticket to Spain, one of the few countries in the world where he can travel without several weapons on his person, and instructions to stay away for two weeks.

“If I receive intel that you’re even within one hundred miles of this location, G Callen,” Hetty threatened, sending a very unfamiliar chill down his spine. “I will send _those_ photos to a person at the CIA who I know would be very interested in them.”

So, Callen gets on a private plane and takes the waiting limo up into the hills, looking out the windows all the while at craggy cliffs that drop off into the kind of blue oceans he used to dream of as a child.

He arrives at an exclusive looking hotel with white porticos and brilliant red Spanish bricks and with so few people in the lobby that G wonders how Hetty managed to add the pork for this in whatever spending package she lobbed at the government.

“Hope this isn’t my Christmas bonus.”

“Like you’ve ever gotten one,” a very familiar voice says over his shoulder. G wants to act surprised, he always wants to imagine the way a “normal” person would react – it’s the undercover agent in him - but he really isn’t.

G turns smiling to Sam. “She was that worried?”

Sam drops his duffle at their feet. A concierge is lingering a few feet away but it’s a further sign of the hotel’s exclusivity that the man knows to stay away for a little while. G notices that Sam’s wearing the same clothes he last saw him in fifteen hours ago. Hetty must have given his partner as little notice as she gave G.

“It’s Hetty. She’s always worried when it comes to you actually following orders.”

G sighs. It’s not like he’s some sort of loose cannon. Okay, not most of the time. But that isn’t the point.

“When did you get here?” He asks Sam.

“Five minutes before you. I’ve been offered a cocktail about three times now.” Sam’s obviously still casing the place. He’s on edge in the tranquil haven and G’s happily surprised that he isn’t the only one uncomfortable.

G chuckles. “I don’t think they’ll stop until you partake in a fruity drink, Sam. Personally, I’m going to start guzzling those neon blue slushies until my tongue changes color.”

G’s happy that Hanna’s here, for the most part. But he’s also the slightest bit terrified.

Sam’s the closest to family he’s ever had and G’s certain that his relief in having a suffering compatriot to this forced R&R is as obvious to Sam as any other emotion G manages to hide from everyone else. And it’s right there that the problem lies. Or rather G wishes the problem would just lay still and be ignored rather than fester the way it has for years now.

A vacation with Sam, with real-life pool side drinks, walks on the beach, romantic sunset vistas with the partner he loves a little differently than a brother, could be disastrous.

But back to the attractive woman at the check-in desk trying to ignore them. And Sam nudging him none to gently with his leather jacket to go to her.

“You brought a jacket?” G says as he walks.

Sam lifts an expressive eyebrow. “I didn’t know how the weather would be this time of year. Haven’t you heard of the rain in Spain?”

G smirks. “I have, but I can’t believe you just said it.”

Sam’s grin is all play. “Believe it G. And believe that if Hetty didn’t get us separate suites then you’re sleeping on the balcony.”  
_

Turns out that Hetty not only got them separate suites but the suites are so decked out that G doesn’t think he’ll even bother to venture outside.

The living room is furnished with day beds in every corner and a balcony that looks out onto his private pool. There’s a fully stocked bar under the marble topped kitchenette and a hot tub in the bathroom that could easily fit four people. And the bedroom is beyond lavish with cream colored bedding he can already feel wrapping him up in comfort and goose down pillows. He begins to think of Sam staring at a copy of the same bed in the suite on the other side of the hotel and has to stop himself. Chocolate brown muscles on those sheets would be too much for his overworked brain at this point.

Hetty deserves to finally have that crystal encrusted vase she’s had her eye on, G thinks. It’s really the least he can do.

The empty shell of his canvas bag is in his closet and his personal concierge has already left the suite (without even waiting for a tip) by the time G finishes his walk around.

He thinks about going right back upstairs to the bed practically screaming his name or taking a dip in the tub but instead leaves his suite and wanders in the general direction of where he last saw Sam. G passes only one couple, an older pair who give him the slightest friendly nod and then move on.

He likes this place more by the second.

G doesn’t worry very much about finding the right room and his lack of care is validated when he hears Sam just before he turns a corner.

“You don’t have to unpack my bags for me or even turn down the bed,” Sam’s saying to his personal concierge, a man who doesn’t look much older than Dom. He’s obviously in the process of kicking the kid out, blocking the doorway with his body as if the concierge was a suspect on the run. “Just give me the local brochures and I’ll handle everything from there.”

“Aww, Sam,” G interrupts, leaning in the doorway. He pats the distressed looking young man on the shoulder. “Cut the kid some slack. Let him fuss around for a bit. Have you even taken in the view?”

Sam shoots G a glare. “I haven’t had much time to do anything yet. But apparently you’re already bored.” He smiles tightly at the concierge, shooing him along with a jerk of his head.

G thinks very briefly of slipping the kid a tip but figures he’s probably paid enough to endure the abuse of the rich – or in Sam’s case, the (rightfully) paranoid.

Sam retreats into his room and G naturally follows. He wants to see if the rooms are cookie cutter twins, he justifies to himself, even though the slight tension in his stomach says otherwise.

“Hope there’s a safe in this place,” Sam mutters, his head in the minifridge. He tosses G a beer, some Spanish microbrew that’s surprisingly good, and wanders over to the balcony, throwing open the doors.

G has an identical view, but with Sam’s broad shoulders highlighted by the setting sun, his brown skin glowing in a way G’s never quite seen in LA, and a small smile on his face that he can’t help but mirror, G’s heart beats a little faster. The view is magnified ten fold.

All of the places that they’ve gone together and G can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be right now. So naturally his next thought is to run.

G licks his suddenly dry lips. “I should let you get settled.” He’s already backing away, back tracking his steps as if he’s walking through a crime scene.

Sam’s brows furrow with confusion. “I’ll bet you a ten spot that there are at least ten soaps on that flat screen.” His smile is genuine.

“I’ve no doubt,” G replies. “But I guess jetlag’s setting in ‘cause I feel like I just got hit with a truck.”

“Oh, alright,” Sam says, although he doesn’t sound convinced. “Go get your beauty sleep princess. I’m think I’m going to take a dip in that slice of paradise outside.”

G grimaces internally, he hates lying to Sam, especially since his partner can usually see right through him. But he’s not changing his mind.

The threat and promise that keeps him moving is visible just out of the corner of his right eye and G almost groans when he sees that he was right. Sam will be sleeping in a bed identical to his own. He can feel his body reacting despite the spikes of anxiety and if he shuts Sam’s door a little harder than warranted, he silently promises the other man that he’ll buy him tequila shot later.

Much later.  
_

G groans at the sunlight stabbing his eyelids when he wakes. He feels like he slept for a week and when he finally manages to open his eyes and glance at the clock he curses when he finds out that he was close; it’s the afternoon of the next day.

He’s been sleeping for almost eighteen hours.

G checks his cell phone the way he always does. Predictably there are no messages from Hetty or any of the team back in LA but there are two texts from Sam.

 _Wakey. Wakey. Eggs and bakey. Get the egg white omelettes. Theyr almost better than sex._

“Doubt that,” G says to himself. He stretches under the blankets and scratches at his bare stomach, rolling his eyes at the flakes he feels scratching from his skin. He should have cleaned up before dropping off last night, but he’d indulged.

G still remembers the fantasy that had him shivering pleasurably into sleep. Sam had him on his knees and was pushing his mouth down onto his long hard cock.

G’s seen it only once when there was the fear of a virulent outbreak and they both had to strip down on the spot, their clothes immediately burned in incinerators. But he never forgot that the length was impressive even soft and the head was perfectly mushroom shaped. Just a glance had G’s mouth watering, imagining how that soft skin would feel on his tongue, pulsing down his throat and tasting of salty musk when Sam came.

In his dream, he’d been pushed onto that cold marble bar in his suite and Sam had played with ass, licking and fingering his hole until G felt like he was going to explode. He knows that Sam would be infinitely patient, the most infuriating of teases. He knows that when Sam finally slid that wonderful cock into his body, being careful but not too careful, that he would come from the feeling alone.

Yeah, G thought, his own cock awakening with interest, Sam definitely wouldn’t disappoint.

He’s just getting around to reading the second text, _If ur dead, don’t tell Hetty. She’ll kill u again._ when his phone vibrates with an incoming message.

 _Theres beauty rest then theres hibrnation. Answer me or Ill call Hetty 2 activate ur trackr. Tel whoevr ur wit 2 let u up frm sukin ther cok._

G chuckles at that. Sam has no idea. He texts back, _Don’t be a jealous bitch. Your spelling is for shit dumbass._ Then slides out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

Before he even manages to step into the luxury shower, outfitted with two heads on top and then smaller jets in the tiles that pulsate, he receives one more message.

 _U know me too well huny. Ill c ur skinny ass in the lobby in 20. Have it lubed up for me, theres a bball court out back._

G considers it seriously for only a second. He and Sam sweaty and bumping into each other. The accidental trip to the tarmac could lead to a “kiss and make it better” that would do more than change the nature of their partnership.

But it’s only for a second. G knows it would never happen, even if Sam was as willing as he sometimes pretended to be. They need to be able to watch each others back in the most difficult of situations, not staring at each other’s asses.

G’s heard enough tales of partners who’ve crossed the line and died bloody.

As it happens, G’s gone through this mental chastisement since he’s met Sam over a decade ago. Back then G was even more of a lone wolf then he is now.

The Agency had refused to give him partners after more than a few were killed in the line of duty. It wasn’t that he would let them die, in fact it was the opposite, but they never understood that there were some things he needed to do on his own. Backup was great but he’d needed partner that understood when to be a wingman and when to step away.

Sam came on the scene knowing all that and more. They’d travelled to some of the most dangerous places on Earth and Sam trusted G with his life. He’d never let him down.

Which was why G’s feelings for him have always been buried deep. Affection he shows on a daily basis, and it’s received with the kind of aplomb that makes Sam his confidante, yet what he really wants is always just outside of his reach. And after years of dealing with disappointment, G’s okay with that.

He’s dressed in shorts and a tee in fifteen minutes. G doesn’t bother to shave; he’s not trying to exert himself too much. Of course, Sam’s already on the small basketball court in an almost identical uniform but G thinks the other man pulls it off much better.

The sun is shining brilliantly off of the ocean and the beaches are calling to him. G suggests going for a run later on and Sam agrees as he passes him the rented basketball.

“So you haven’t gotten any sleep yet I see.” Sam cracks before he attempts a layup that G smacks down.

“What makes you think that?” G asks.

Sam smirks. “’Cause all of that beauty rest had to have been bullshit. I think you’re uglier than you were yesterday.”

G shakes his head. “Think you’re so funny, Hanna.” He shoots mid court and hoots as the ball swooshes through the net. “But that’s funnier.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says as he retrieves the ball. “Let’s see you do that again…” He’s obviously about to say something else when a stunning brunette in pink running gear jogs past them. She’s heading for the beach but seems to slow down when she passes them on the court, giving Sam in particular as sunny smile.

Sam licks his lips and returns the smile and G feels a familiar spasm in his muscles.

They’ve both taken other people home over the span of ten years and it shouldn’t be a big deal for yet another woman to fall for Sam’s handsome smile and gorgeous face.

“Go on. She’s interested.” G encourages. He’s already thinking about heading back to bed. He’s not tired but maybe after some of those Telemundo soaps, dreams will be better entertainment.

Sam shrugs and throws the ball back in play. “Naw, that’s okay. I’m here with you anyway.”

G’s confused. “So? I’m not you’re mother and I’d ditch you in a heartbeat if some fine ass like that gave me the kinds of looks she’s giving you.”

Sam stops dribbling with a serious look and G’s thrown off base again. “Would you really?”

G doesn’t think about his response. “Well, no but that’s not the point.” He’s getting annoyed at the lack of predictability in this conversation. G’d ask what was going on but he’s not that certain he wants to know. He catches Sam’s pass in the chest and the other man rolls his eyes.

“G, drop it. I’m here with you. We’re on vacation together for the first time. Let’s just make this...about us.” The last of that is posed as a question but G knows as well as Sam that it’s a mandate.

It also shifts the ground beneath G’s feet a bit. He finds himself reevaluating his long held reservations about their relationship, and that’s a dangerous thing.

The girls long gone by the time G comes back to himself. Sam’s playing alone, letting G have his think time without prodding for answers. Basically acting as perfectly as he always has for the past decade. If it were anyone else G would pissed but he loves the man so it’s just another reason for him to feel lucky.

“How about a walk on the beach?” G asks carefully. “You know, instead of a run.”

Sam tucks the ball under his arm. He’s worked up a light sweat and it’s everything in G, in an unfortunately hopeful mood right now, not to step a little too close.

But instead he finds that he has to take step back when Sam responds.

“Sounds good. Maybe we can ask if they’ll pack a lunch up for us.”

G feels like he has to laugh this off or his heart is going to explode through his chest. “Right, and hold hands in the sunset.”

Sam gives him a sly grin and wink. “Of course. But if you want me to buy the drinks, it’ll cost you a kiss.”

G opens his mouth to ask if Sam’s lost his damn mind when his partner throws him the ball once more and it almost hits him in the chin. The look on Sam’s face says that he knows how close it was and also to keep his mouth shut. G sighs.

It’s not sex. It’s not even a kiss. But G feels it’s a step and that’s more important than any mission they’ve ever completed.

END


End file.
